Lifeless
by MamaPunxxx
Summary: Hermione is broken after a summer spent in hell. Draco wants to be the one to bring her back to life.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Hello, my name is Steph. I will be your friendly neighborhood storyteller for this ride. This is my first ever attempt at fanfiction, so I appologize ahead of time if it isn't any good. I will also warn you upfront that my updates will probably not be very regular, and they may also be fairly infrequent at times, due to my personal family life, but bear with me. I promise I'll try my best to stay on top of things. That is, if you darlings even LIKE it! Well then? Have at it! =D

p.s. Do I really even NEED a disclaimer? If I was Ms. Rowling, I would have just put Dramione in the REAL Harry Potter. Obviously. Let this stand as my disclaimer for the entire story, cuz i really dislike repeating myself. Lol.

Chapter One

Hermione Granger. Bushy haired, know-it-all, bookworm extraordinaire. Muggle-born. Brightest witch of her age. Smartest witch in the past century, in fact. She had been tested by her professors at the end of sixth year, the day before leaving Hogwarts for the summer.

'I am Hermione Granger.' she thought miserably, 'and I'm trapped in a closet.' Although locked in was the more appropriate term. Padlocked in, to be completely specific.

'How did my life come to this?' she asked herself for the millionth time that summer. And for the millionth time, she received no answer.

Hermione felt herself slipping into oblivion, a place her mind visited frequently these days. At first, oblivion had been hard to achieve. Always the thinker, incapable of NOT analyzing a situation from every possible perspective, Hermione had found it impossible to force her mind to shut down. To turn off. At first. But now, now it came as naturally as breathing. As if she had never been capable of stringing thoughts together from the start.

'Except you CAN think,' a voice nagged at the edge of her mind. A voice that refused to be turned off. Refused to stop thinking. Interjecting unwanted opinions about her current state of existence. Forcing her to touch base with reality. Oh, how she HATED that voice.

But just as she had gotten good at shutting down her brain, she was also getting pretty damn good at ignoring that voice and pushing it back to the recesses of her mind.

But apparently this was not one of those times. Hermione's nagging thought had been heard, and now a flood of memories rushed into her brain, taking over, and forcing her to think of things that were better left alone.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in the dark closet as they grew hot with tears. Stinging tears of pain and regret and a desperate desire for things to go back to how they had been before. The tears spilled over like lava, leaving a burning trail down her cheeks, as she was forced to remember all of the events that had led to her being locked in this dark and stuffy closet.

:Flashback:

Hermione, Harry, and Ron stepped off of the Hogwarts Express onto platform 9¾. Sixth year was officially over. The trio would be going to their respective homes for two weeks before meeting up at the burrow where they would be spending the rest of their holiday. Once there, they all had very different plans for how they wanted to spend the summer. Harry was determined to laze about and catch up on sleep now that the weight of the wizarding world was no longer on his shoulders. Ron had plans to practice his keeping skills on The Burrows overgrown quidditch pitch. And Hermione, well Hermione would be studying. Of course.

The three friends said their goodbye's and with promises to write, and a chorus of "see you soon"s, they went off on their separate ways.

Hermione stood on tiptoe trying to catch a glimpse of her parents through the crowd. Scanning the tops of the heads around her, she grew more anxious with each passing minute in which she did not see her mothers tiny hand waving at her from amongst the bustling people. Her parents were more reliable than a clock. They were ALWAYS on time. "If you're not five minutes early, you're late," her father always liked to remind her. But this time, Hermione's parents were most definitely late. She was hoping that maybe they had run into an old friend at King's Cross and been sidetracked by the latest gossip, so with her eyes set on the stretch of wall she needed to get off of the platform, Hermione made her way over to the barrier.

Without any warning, she suddenly found herself smashing into something warm and solid, and felt a steadying grip on her shoulders.

"Whoa. Alright there Granger?" Asked a smooth, drawling voice, with a hint of amusement.

Hermione looked up into two pools of molten silver, warm and deep. And then blushed, horrified, when she realized that the warm and solid thing she had smashed into was none other than Draco Malfoy, who was currently giving her his infamous smirk.

"Watch where you're going you silly bint," he said, rolling his eyes and releasing her from his grasp.

She barely managed a small, humiliated "thank you," before he sauntered away to stand next to his parents.

'My parents!' She thought frantically, before making her way towards the barrier once more, only this time, she payed more attention to the people moving around her.

As she stepped out into the bright lights of King's Cross, Hermione's heart began thudding in her chest. Her parents weren't here. She broke into a run, trying to get outside as quickly as she could. She burst through the doors into the muggy London sunshine. Still no parents. No parent's car. Nothing.

Hermione started to panic. Never in her life had her parents forgotten to pick her up. They were RELIABLE. They were good parents. Sitting in the front row of every dance recital, every school play, every spelling bee. Always on time. Even though they didn't quite understand the wizarding world, or the fairy tale creatures their daughter told them about on holidays away from the wizarding world, they knew it made her happy, so it made them happy. They had never in all her life, failed her. Therefore, she knew, without a doubt, that something was terribly wrong.

:End Flashback:

Hermione was jerked back into her new, harsh reality, by a banging on the door and the sound of the padlock clicking open. Her palms began to sweat and her heart was racing with dread.

"Git out of there and wash yerself up tramp. We have guests coming in an hour and they're REALLY lookin forward ter meetin ya," said a voice Hermione hated more than anything.

The man that spoke, was a disgusting excuse for a man. Unwashed and reeking of whiskey, with a wild scruff of hair on his face and head, always sporting a dirty undershirt with sweat stains around the neck and armpits. He disgusted her. And she was completely at his mercy.

He leered at her hungrily and dragged her out of the closet by her hair. Hermione knew better than to voice her pain, he liked it when she hurt. So she bit her tongue and refused to give him the satisfaction. But when he yanked her up against his rank body and let out a breath of air straight into her face, she couldn't stop herself from gagging, and turning her face away.

Chuckling, he licked the side of her face, and threw her over his shoulder, giving her bum a smack and a lewd squeeze, and carried her into the bathroom. She saw an outfit set on the counter that she would never have been caught dead in. 'Except someday, you just might be caught dead in something like that,' the relentless voice spoke from the depths of her mind. Gulping, Hermione began to strip off the thin and ragged nightgown that she was wearing. She knew better than to expect her captor to leave the bathroom. He enjoyed watching her shower. He enjoyed anything that made her uncomfortable. He thrived on it. She stepped into the shower, feeling his eyes roam her backside, and turned the water on as hot as she could stand it. She began scrubbing herself raw. Trying to wash away from the outside all of the filth she felt on the inside. It didn't work. It never did. She grabbed a razor and made quick work of shaving her legs, pits, and unmentionables. He didn't like pubic hair, and she knew too well what would happen if she neglected that. Steeling herself for what was to come, Hermione turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, standing with her feet shoulder width apart and her arms out to the side. She turned her head as the man walked towards her with a towel. He liked to be the one to get her ready for these nights. He dried her body slowly, his hands lingering on every part of her body. Pinching her nipples painfully, cupping her between the legs with one hand and holding her there. He used his other hand to force her to look him in the eye, his fingers digging painfully into her jaw.

"Now i wantcha to be on yer best behavior, hear? I'll not have anyone leave here disappointed," he breathed quietly into her face, his rotting breath washing over her, as he rubbed her mound with his other hand.

Hermione nodded meekly, and leering go, he moved to get the clothes from the counter. He dressed her just as slowly as he dried her, pausing every so often to adjust himself through his dirty trousers, and to run his hands along her body, occasionally biting her flesh and groping her roughly. Hermione accepted this obediently. She knew what happened if she tried to push him away. She wore the scars of her punishments. When she was dressed, he ran a brush through her hair, yanking roughly and ripping hair out with each downward stroke. Hermione took it in silence, closing her eyes tightly to ward off the threatening tears. He liked tears.

When he decided himself satisfied, he shoved her over to the full length mirror and forced her to look at herself. She did not resist. She knew better. This was her life now, and she had always been a fast learner after all.

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror and this time, she couldn't stop the tears that fell at her appearance. She was wearing a skimpy strapless dress that looked like a terrible mockery of something a little girl would dress a doll with. It cut off just below her bum and was followed up by white thigh highs. And that was all. No bra. No panties. Nothing to get in the way. Her arms were riddled with finger shaped bruises and teeth marks. Her face was sunken and sallow, with one long scar tracing from right below the middle of her left eye, to the corner of her mouth and down to her chin. A tear track. Made with a knife. He so enjoyed it when she cried. But the sight that frightened her most were her eyes. Except they weren't her eyes. They were someone elses. And there was nothing in them.

Satisfied that she was complying, her captor dragged her back through the house and into a clean and well kept lounge room. With several comfy looking couches and a small bar in the corner flanked by two tall tables and stools. Hermione hated this room. Everything about it.

She was shoved onto couch in the center of the room, and while her captor was making drinks and setting things up for the evening to come, Hermione felt her mind slipping back to that day at King's Cross while she waited for their "guests."

:Flashback:

Hermione heralded a cab and gave the driver her home address. She stayed silent for the entire forty minute drive.

Her heart calmed slightly as her house came into view. Her family owned a fairly large cabin nestled in the middle of a thicket of trees. It was a beautiful three story lodge and it had been Hermione's home her entire life.

She paid the driver and started down the walk, her gut twisting with worry. This didn't feel right. Something was off. It was then that she noticed an unfamiliar car in the drive, with no sign of either parent's vehicle. She pulled her wand out of her shoulder bag and held it ready at her side. Just as she was about to grab the door handle, it opened to reveal a man in a frumpy suit with a badge pinned on his lapel.

"Hermione Granger?" He asked with a soft, quiet voice.

"Yes," she replied hesitantly, gripping her wand tighter.

"I'm Detective Gamble. I'm afraid i have some bad news. Let's get you inside," he said kindly, placing a large hand on her shoulder gently and steering her inside.

:End Flashback:

The doorbell rang. And with one last leering grin in her direction, her captor left to greet his guests.

Dead. Her parents were dead. Heart attacks. Both of them on the same day. Both in the prime of their lives. Two people that were extremely conscientious about their health. 'Heart attacks my arse,' Hermione scoffed. She did not SUSPECT foul play. She KNEW. Just when she thought everything was going to be ok, Voldemort defeated, the Death Daters disbanded. She assumed a rogue death eater had tracked down her parents and killed them out of revenge. After all, she was Harry Potter's right hand man, so to speak. She had helped cause HIS downfall. And now she was paying for it.

The door to the lounge was thrown open. Hermione gulped against the lump in her throat, preparing to close her mind off once again for the evenings "festivities".

In walked a group of six men, all wearing hungry looks upon their faces when they saw her on the couch.

"Stand up and greet yer guests properly, wench," her captor bellowed.

Hermione immediately stood up and offered a clumsy curtsy, her cheeks flooding with embarrassment.

"See how well she listens gents? She does anything she's told. And i mean ANYTHING," he said, causing all of the men to chuckle heartily and their eyes to light up in anticipation. "Well don't just stand there staring, ya dolts. Lets start this party!"

All six men immediately moved in her direction, one sitting on either side of her, the rest on the various couches near her. The one on the left put his meaty hand on her thigh and started to kneed it roughly. The one on the right pushed her hair away from get neck and proceeded to cover it in wet, sloppy kisses and grope at her breast.

Meaty Hands was sliding his palm further up her thigh, and smiled gleefully when he discovered she had no panties on. "I see you're ready for me, pet, dare i say you were looking forward to tonights activities?" he whispered into her left ear while using his other hand to undo his trousers and free his member, stroking it softly in preparation. "Well lets not keep you waiting then. I paid extra to have first go." He said as he roughly shoved a finger inside of her.

Meanwhile Sloppy Kisses had pulled down the front of her dress exposing her breasts to himself and the others, and was currently fondling both breasts, sucking and biting each in turn.

Hermione, however, was in her own world. A safe haven inside of her mind that these men could not intrude on. She had no desire to know the things that were being done to her body. So instead, she allowed her mind to drift through happier memories. Her seventh birthday when all she wanted was the complete annotated works of Shakespeare. Her eleventh birthday, when an odd looking man with a flowing white beard and long white hair, sat on her couch and explained to her and her parents, that she was a witch. The first time she visited Diagon Alley. Her first glimpse of Hogwarts, from the middle of the black lake. Harry and Ron, and all of their adventures. She missed them desperately.

She was ripped out of her musings by a sharp blow to her face. Apparently, she had bitten somebody's something unknowingly. Now blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. Her blood. The men surrounding her laughed uproariously, and continued their ministrations. Hermione's head was throbbing from the blow she had received and she was having trouble zoning out again. She could feel everything. Humiliated tears prickled behind her eyelids.

This was her life now. Brightest witch of her age.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Author's note:  
Hello darlings. So I've had a positive response to this story so far and for that i thank you. Now, just to clear up any confusion, for the purpose of this story, voldemort was defeated at the end of sixth year. Harry and Dumbledore found and destroyed all of the horcrux throughout the year. And instead of Dumbledore dying at the top of the astronomy tower, it was voldemort that perished and fell over the side. I can't think of any other notes, so then, enjoy the next installment! -MamaPunxxx

Chapter Two.

Hermione woke up in her closet. Her body was sore all over, a pronounced ache between her legs. Alone in her closet, she cried. She cried for her parents. She cried for her friends that she had not talked to in months. She cried for herself. She cried, painful heart wrenching sobs of pain, humiliation, and loneliness. Eventually she cried her eyes dry and forced herself to think back to the beginning of her downfall.

:Flashback:

Hermione sat on her bed, all of her important things, packed and ready to go, sitting in the room around her. Her parents were dead. Her father's estranged brother, her only relative, would be arriving shortly to take her away from her home. He had agreed, graciously, according to Detective Gamble, to be her guardian until she was of age. She had never met the man. She had only heard stories from her father, and only stories from the brothers' very early childhood. Hermione assumed there was a reason he had not been close to her family, but she had no facts to support that. Maybe the brothers just, drifted apart. Things like that happened to families, she supposed.

A knock at the door downstairs, roused Hermione from her musings. She stood on shaky legs and staggered down to answer it. The man at the door looked friendly enough. He looked to be about 40 years old, slightly overweight, wearing faded jeans, and a comfy looking sweatshirt. He stood there awkwardly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Hi, I'm George Granger. I guess ya must be Hermione, then," he said reaching out his hand for her to shake.

Hermione grasped his rough hand in her small one and shook it once, gingerly, before inviting him inside. "My things are upstairs,"she said softly, leading him towards the stairs. "I may need help bringing everything down." When they got to her room, she saw him glance around once before grabbing the nearest box and heading back out.

She stayed silent for the entire journey. George filled the silence with his low, droning voice. She learned that he didn't have any children, he had, in fact, never even been married, he made his living by "entertaining" businessmen, and he had high hopes of someday owning his own business. Hermione sat in the passenger seat, wishing that he would just stop talking, and let her mourn in silence.

Dead. She still just couldn't believe it. Dead. Never had any word sounded as harsh as that one. Dead. After Detective Gamble gave her the terrible news, and told her of her estranged uncle, her parents' lawyer had been called to come by and read off their will. They had left everything to Hermione, of course. The house and everything in it and the entire content of their bank accounts would be hers upon her eighteenth birthday. There was also a trust fund, that would be revised to include the profits made with the selling of their dental practice, which she would receive on her twenty first birthday. The lawyer was quick to inform her, that the bank accounts alone were enough for her to live comfortably well into her thirties, and the trust fund would see her well into the late years of her life. There was also another trust find, set up by both sets of grandparents, so in the words of her lawyer, she was more than set for life. But Hermione would much rather have lived in poverty with both of her parents, then live in riches without them.

:End Flashback:

The padlock clicked, and the door was thrown open, letting in the harsh light from the room beyond. "Git yerself in the lounge and clean up your mess," George barked at her, wearing a disgusted look, yanking her up to stand in front of him.

'My mess!' Hermione thought, resisting an insane urge to laugh in his face, her wand hand itching. 'If I had my wand, I'd blast away that look, and maybe the face to go with it.'

Only she didn't have her wand. It was locked in her "bedroom" along with the rest of her things.

For the first week or so, life with George had been... tolerable. It was awkward, of course, but that was to be expected. She was grieving for her parents, and he was unaccustomed to caring for anyone other than himself. Sure she had caught him giving her strange, and in her eyes, inappropriate, looks. Sure she found his acquaintances to be less than desirable. But it was tolerable. It wasn't until Hermione informed him of her previous plans to go stay with friends the following week that he blew a gasket. Her wand had been in her room, so she had been utterly defenseless when he had suddenly grabbed her up by her hair, drug her into his room, and thrown her in the closet, placing a chair under the handle so she could not get out. The next day, he had installed the padlock.

At first, Hermione had fought back. She pleaded, and begged, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. Banging on the door and screaming herself hoarse. Any time he would let her out to relieve herself, she tried to run. But she was rather tiny and he was much larger than her. And stronger. Soon she lost track of time, and that was when she stopped hoping. That was when she gave up.

The first time she was raped, had been by her uncle himself. She had asked what the date was. When he asked cruelly why she needed to know, she said that she would be starting school again soon, and he went crazy. He attacked her right there on the floor of her closet. Viciously ripping her clothes off, holding her down aggressively with a hand to her throat, bruising her skin. She fought him as best she could considering their differences in size. When he entered her, roughly ripping through her hymen, she screamed out in agony, and he only laughed in her face. After he finished, he brought out a knife, and traced a lone tear as it fell down her cheek, slicing the skin. Marking her for life. He threw her her ripped and tattered clothing and informed her that she was his now. That she was never leaving. That was the last time she ever fought back.

Since that day, she had done as she was told. No longer praying for it to end. Only praying that she survived. And somewhere along the line, hoping that she wouldn't. Who could ever live again after something like this? Who could ever be happy again? Be normal? No. It would be much easier to just die in this hell, than to have to remember it for the rest of her life.

"Whatchu doin jus standin there? Them couches ain't guna scrub 'emselves, you lazy, ungrateful swine," George yelled, kicking her in the rump. "I'm guna have a rest, and when i get up, your mess had better be gone."

Hermione jumped and moved swiftly into the lounge, hearing him lock her in the disgusting room.

About an hour into her cleaning, she heard an oddly familiar tapping sound. She paused, and then shrugged it off. 'It's probably rats,' she thought, rolling her eyes. But a few minutes later, she heard it again. This time louder, more insistent. Her heart stopped as she recognized the sound. It was the sound of a beak tapping on glass. With her heart hammering in her throat, Hermione flew to the window, ripping back the curtain. There on the windowsill, was a lovely Sooty Owl, with a letter clasped firmly in it's beak.

Choking back a strangled sob, Hermione struggled madly to open the window, her stomach dropping when she found it locked. She looked around the room wildly, her eyes landing on the small bar in the corner. She ran over and snatched a bottle of whiskey. Returning to the window, Hermione shooed the bird back with an erratic gesture, waiting for it to comply and then hurled the bottle at the glass. Both shattered and the bird flew in dropping it's missive into her waiting hands and landing on a nearby couch, waiting to take her reply. Hermione tore the envelope open with trembling fingers and quickly read through the letter.

Dear Miss Granger,  
Your absence was noted at the start of term Welcoming Feast. We regret to inform you that your position of Head Girl is in jeopardy, if you fail to report to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before the start of lessons on Monday. Please send your return letter with Inky. We are awaiting your response.  
Sincerely,  
Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hermione grasped the letter in a trembling hand and ran back to the bar searching for a pen. No such luck. In fact, there were no writing utensils of any kind. Shooting back to the window, Hermione dropped to her knees and grabbed a shard of glass.

Just then, she heard the sound of footsteps outside of the lounge and the fumbling of keys. Without hesitation, she slid the glass down her forearm, slicing it open. She dipped her trembling fingers in the blood and used it as ink to spell out the words 'help me' on the back of the letter. She handed it to the owl, and it flew back out the window just as the door was violently thrown open.

"What was that sound?" George bellowed at her. "what have ya done, ya simple bitch?" he roared when he saw the broken window.

"I tr-tripped," she stuttered lamely, clutching her bloody arm against herself.

George marched across the room, his face ugly and distorted with anger, and Hermione silently prayed that Inky was a fast flyer. And that she would be alive to see help arrive.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch3

Author's note:  
Darlings, thank you.  
Bianca, THANK YOU for being my first reviewer. Spell666, I'm really trying not to overdo it. I want some graphic-ness, to really make an impact, but i don't want TOO much detail. I don't want it to be disgusting, but i want it to be FELT, you feel me? So thank you for appreciating that.  
merrrpak, thanks, i will! Lol

Now this chapter is super short. I needed it to end where it does and i didn't want to much nastiness in between the start and end. I promise the next one will be longer.

Ok. Enough of that. No one likes reading through crazy long author notes. Let's get on with it!  
-MamaPunxxx

Chapter Three

She had been beaten mercilessly. At first with swift blows and sharp kicks. He had then taken off his belt and after tearing away at her clothes, he had taken it to her flesh. Snapping against her skin, over and over, criss-crossing welts that broke open and bled. He spit foul filthy words at her and she only prayed that it would end soon. That he would grow bored and be done with it, or that she would black out from the pain.

And soon, he did stop.

Hermione lay on the floor of the lounge, her body bloody and broken. She could feel sharp pains from what she knew to be several broken ribs. And her flesh hurt so badly, she could not distinguish between individual lash marks. She stared, horrified through swollen eyes as George's face took on an animalistic expression, having up until this point, been wearing a mask of calm indifference. Now that mask melted and morphed into something sinister. Something excited. And she knew what was coming.

"Always did enjoy the sight of ma own handiwork," he spoke down at her, grinning maliciously, and undoing his trousers. "Always did make me wanna play," he stated, licking his lips, and dropping down to his knees, forcing her legs apart.  
He entered her swiftly and roughly, and began pounding into her wildly. He wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed slightly, biting her face and forcing his tongue into her mouth, as he thrusted with increased abandon, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Hermione was numb. She didn't care. Her only hope was that he would finish her off. That she would die on the floor of this lounge that she so hated. She knew what TRUE fear felt like. What it tasted like. What it smelled like. And she knew that death was not something she feared, but embraced. A sweet escape from the hell her life had become. She just wanted it to stop.

George's actions were becoming more and more erratic and she knew he was almost finished. As he neared his completion, he suddenly looked her in the eyes, and increased the pressure around her throat, cutting off her air completely, and making sure that he got to see the life leave her eyes. He came with a wild roar, pumping uncontrollably, just as her eyes rolled back into her head from lack of oxygen. And right before she passed out, Hermione heard the sweetest sound she could ever remember hearing. The distinct POP of apparition, three times, one after the other, and three horrified gasps, and then she drifted off into unconsciousness. 


	4. Chapter 4

Ch4

My darlings, I'm so glad you're all enjoying my story. I'll be honest, i didn't think it was going to be this well received. But I have been happily proven wrong. Thank you dears.  
-Steph

Chapter Four

Hermione had been staring at silent darkness for an eternity. There had been noises for a minute. Strange, garbled sounds that she could make no sense of. And then silence. She could not feel anything. There were no smells. No sense of space. There was only her mind, and this lonely stretch of nothing.

'Just OPEN your eyes,' she told herself for the hundredth time. 'It's something you do ALL THE TIME! How hard could it be to just...'

"Open your eyes, Miss Granger," a kind voice spoke from somewhere near her head. "If I have timed the potions correctly, you should be able to open your eyes any minute now. Give us a try, dearie."

'Potions?' thought Hermione, confused. She struggled to open her eyes, and succeeded by about a fraction of an inch. Squinting in the harsh white lights, Hermione tried to figure out where she was. This was most certainly NOT her closet. Nor was it any other room in George's house. This room was clean and white and smelled extremely sterile. 'A hospital?' she wondered. It wasn't until her eyes landed on the calm face of Madame Pomfrey, that she figured it out.

Hermione's eyes flew open in shock, and she stared openly at the woman sitting to her right.

"Good. Good," Madame Pomfrey said, nodding her head, and making notes on a clipboard with her quill. "Are you feeling any nausea or discomfort?" she asked softly, looking Hermione up and down.

Hermione could only stare. She had spent so much time being quiet, not talking to a soul, she wondered if she had forgotten how. She shook her head slightly, and continued to stare, feeling her eyes fill up with tears. She was free? She was FREE! She was free, and she was SAFE here in the wizarding world, and she began to sob earnestly. Relieved.

Madame Pomfrey moved as if to touch Hermione's hand, and changed her mind. She got up and hurried over to her office, coming back with a bottle and a small glass. She poured a dash of the potion into the glass and held it to Hermione's lips. "Drink up. A little Dreamless Sleep, dearie. You'll feel much better when you awake again," she said gently tipping the potion down Hermione's throat.

And Hermione slept.

When she woke again, she noted that the curtains had been pulled around her bed, and the room was slightly darker. She sat up slowly, pushing up with her arms and scooting herself back to lean against the metal bedframe. She could hear quiet murmurs on the other side of the curtain. Hermione stared at her hands clasped in her lap. She was free. And yet, she didn't feel any different. She was still lost. She was still broken. She was still just a shell of her former self. And now, she had to pretend to be normal. To go on with her life despite the horrific memories still holding her hostage.

Hermione jumped as Dumbledore pulled back the curtain and stepped into her space.

"My apologies, Miss Granger. I did not intend to frighten you," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, pulling a chair over to sit beside her bed. "I was hoping to have a chat and clear up some of the unknown, and then i have an escort waiting in the hall to take you to your room. It is almost curfew and I thought it best for you, given the current situation, if you were able to get to your room quickly and unseen."

Hermione nodded. She did not like the knowing, pitying look that Dumbledore was giving her over the top of his half-moon spectacles. She could only imagine what they had seen upon arriving to her rescue, and she hated that someone would have that image of her stored in their memories. 'THREE someones!' she thought to herself, horrified.

"I assume by your unusual silence," he began, "that you are still in a state of shock. Miss Granger, that is perfectly normal. I would expect nothing less from someone who has been through so much horror."

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears once again. 'Yes," she thought. "I most certainly know a thing or two about horrors."

Professor Dumbledore handed her a handkerchief stitched with the initials AWPBD, and allowed her a moment to dab at her eyes and collect herself, before continuing on.

"In light of the dire and drastic circumstances, you WILL be allowed to keep the Head Girl position. However, you will be excused from all duties and classes the first week, for rest and recuperation. The healing process is most important. This week off is mandatory, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded, trying hard not to completely fall apart in front of the professor. Head Girl was a title she had strived for ever since arriving at Hogwarts. And now it seemed so trivial. It no longer held the rewarding, self-respect that she had always imagined she would feel. And that confused her. But she had no desire, at this time, to voice any of her thoughts.

Dumbledore regarded her silently for a moment, twirling a finger in his long flowing beard, before standing and preparing to leave. "I'm terribly sorry for what you've had to go through, Miss Granger," he stated, looking into her eyes and placing a hand on her bedrail. "No witch should ever have to endure such terrible acts of man. Just know, that if you ever need an ear, there are many people in this school, that would be willing to lend one," he finished kindly.

Before Hermione even registered what was happening, she found that she had thrown herself into the old professor's arms, squeezing him tightly around the middle, and sobbing once again. "Thank you," she whispered roughly, over and over again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you,"she said, allowing him to pat her gently on the back.

"There is no need for thanks, Miss Granger, but you are most assuredly welcome," Dumbledore smiled warmly after she had disentangled herself. "Now, I believe Poppy would like to fuss over you for a minute before discharge," he chuckled, then smiled warmly once again. "Goodnight, Miss Granger. I shall see you about."

And he walked out, replaced immediately by Madame Pomfrey. She waved her wand over Hermione slowly, starting at her toes and ending at her head, the wand light glowing several different colors. "Everything is coming along nicely," Madame Pomfrey stated, matter-of-factly. "Now dear," she started nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, "I fixed everything as best I could. You have minimal scarring from the lacerations you revived. Unfortunately, i could do nothing for the scarring on your face," she said, obviously displeased with herself. "I also need to inform you, that with the use of both spells and potions, I was able to reverse the internal trauma and scarring to your pubic area."

Hermione stared at her with wide eyes. What did that mean, 'reverse the trauma'? What did that imply?

As if reading her mind, Madame Pomfrey shook her head slightly, "I have repaired the tissue damage, but there's no spell or potion I can use to give back what was taken from you, understand?" she asked softly.

Hermione nodded, numbly. There was no way to replace her innocence. That would forever remain stolen. A part of her that was lost indefinitely. She felt her mind trying to shut down again, but she forced herself to remain present.

"I'll go inform your escort that you will be ready to leave in a few moments. Would you like some help getting into your clothes?" Madame Pomfrey offered.

Hermione shook her head violently. She would dress herself. She had had enough of being dressed by someone else, thank you very much.  
She climbed out of the hospital bed slowly, feeling shaky. She found a pair of loose white lounge pants and a plain white short sleeve shirt sitting on the table beside her, and pulled them on as quick as she could. Stepping out of the curtain, she saw Madame Pomfrey coming out of her office with a small vial.

"More Dreamless Sleep, dearie, for when you get to your room. And I'll have some sent to you to get you through the next week," Madame Pomfrey stated, placing it into Hermione's outstretched hand, leading her over to the door.

Hermione opened the door to the hospital wing and came face to face with Draco Malfoy. 


	5. Chapter 5

Ch5

I appreciate constructive criticism, but telling me a chapter is horrible ONLY because you're not a fan of rape, isn't exactly constructive. Just because it's not your favorite flavor, doesn't make it bad tea, feel me?  
That being said, i do thank you all for the reviews, even a bad review is proof that my story is being read and making an impact of some kind. =) I also wish to inform that starting with this chapter, there will be switches back and forth from Hermione's pov to Draco's pov. I will label each as such.  
-Steph

Chapter Five

:Draco:  
Hermione Granger. Truth be told, when Dumbledore had asked him, as Head Boy, to play escort, this was not who he had been expecting. There had been murmurs all throughout the school of her absence. The entire student body, and all of the professors, were worried about their beloved Gryffindor Princess. With the exception of the Slytherins of course, who only ever worried after themselves. Now standing in front of her, he couldn't help but compare this girl to the one he had last seen that day at King's Cross. Then, she had been the very picture of health. Her crazy mane of hair had been shiny and wild. Her cheeks flushed with color. Her eyes vibrant and snapping. This girl, standing in front of him, was a stranger. Her dull hair hung limply around her shoulders. Her skin was so pale she looked translucent, her face hollow and scarred, her body sickly thin. When she looked up into his eyes, Draco felt a chill run all the way down his spine and settle in his gut. They were dead. Utterly and completely lifeless. It was like falling into a void of nothingness, a black hole that threatened to suck him in. He looked away, unable to gaze into those bottomless depths any longer. What had happened to her since he had seen her last? What had killed her spark of life? Having never been a particularly compassionate person, Draco found himself resisting the urge to gather this frail, damaged girl into his arms. He wanted to hide her away from the harsh, cruel world that had taken such a bright star and ripped it from the heavens.

"Granger..." he started, faltering in his attempt at his trademark indifference.

She gave no reply, making no indication that she had even heard him. She simply stood there, waiting for him to direct her, her eyes glazed over, giving him the distinct impression that she was not looking AT him, but THROUGH him. As if he wasn't even there. And it unnerved him down to his very bones.

"Granger," he tried again after clearing his throat, "let's get you to your room," he spoke softly, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, only to yank it back when she flinched violently, snapping her eyes back to his.

"Right then, follow me," he said awkwardly, leading her through the halls.

:Hermione:  
Draco Malfoy. He looked different than the last time she had seen him, that fateful day at King's Cross. His face was not marred by an ugly sneer. In fact, he looked almost peaceful. Pleasant even. And then he touched her, and she jumped. She couldn't stand the idea of people touching her now. If she never felt a hand upon her person again, it would be too soon.

Hermione stayed silent for the entire walk, not even paying attention to where they were going. It wasn't until he stopped, and she very nearly walked straight into him, that she looked at her surroundings. They were standing in front of a portrait of a giant tree, half of which was healthy and beautiful, and the other half was twisted and dead.

"Huh," Draco said quietly. "It's never looked like that before," he said slowly, and Hermione caught him glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Right then, this is the Heads' Dorm. The password is 'expectations'," he informed her, and the portrait swung out to allow them entrance.

Hermione stared around the cozy sitting room, soaking everything in. With silver couches, gold armchairs, white marble tables and bookshelves, and plush, cream carpets, the whole room was airy and bright, and not at all what she had expected to walk into. There was a white, marble fireplace in the middle of the back wall, and a beautiful, curving marble staircase in one corner. There was a window seat on the staircase side of the room, under a picture window that spanned the entire length of the wall, with a breathtaking view of both the black lake and the forbidden forest. Hermione knew immediately that this would be her new favorite spot in all of Hogwarts.

:Draco:  
He watched from his position, leaned up against the wall by the entrance, as she took in the room, a look of awe etched on her face. In this moment, she almost looked like her old know-it-all self, committing every insignificant detail to memory. He watched her walk over to the bookshelves and run her finger along some of the spines. He watched her stare out of the grand picture window for what felt like five minutes, with her knees on the window seat and both hands pressed against the glass.

As he watched her inspect her new living quarters, he thought back to the portrait hole they had just come through. The painting was called Life's Tree. Before today, it had always been vibrant and healthy. And then when they had both stood in front of it, half of it had been ugly and dead. He wondered if it was enchanted to reflect the person (or persons) facing it. And if so, what did that mean for Hermione? Was she really so damaged as to make the tree appear gnarled and lifeless? What must a person go through to cause that sort of break? 'What must SHE have gone through," he wondered, pushing himself off of the wall and gaining her attention once more.

"Granger? Shall i show you your room now?" he asked softly, trying not to startle her. She jumped anyways. As if she had had the fright of her life. And when she turned her head to look at him once more, he met the same broken, lifeless eyes as before, and had to repress a shudder.

:Hermione:  
She followed Draco silently up the stairs, trailing her hand along the marble banister. The sitting room was so lovely, she was almost excited to see her bedroom. Almost. But it had been a long time since she had felt excitement of any kind. She had months ago decided that she no longer remembered what excitement felt like.

There was a short hall at the top of the stairs with a door at either end. Both doors were open, so Hermione was unsure which way to go.

"The room on the right is your," Draco supplied helpfully at her look of confusion. When she made no sign of movement, he walked over to the tom on the right, and Hermione followed, stepping across the threshold.

The room was decorated with white wooden furniture, and fabrics of a deep blood red. A spacious four poster bed sat in the middle of the far wall. The left wall was made entirely of bookshelves, the shelves of which were already mostly full, only broken by a door in the middle. She noticed that her trunk was sitting at the foot of the bed, and lying on top of it was her wand.

Hermione walked over to it slowly, as if in a trance. She reached out with a trembling hand and stroked the vine and heartstring wand gentil KY, before wrapping her fingers around it and holding it to her heart. She could feel the thrum of magic flowing through her once again, as she dropped to her knees, sobbing. Oh, how she had MISSED this stick of wood. She had missed holding pure power in her hand. She had missed the strength and security she felt with it in her grasp. She had missed her magic. And she sobbed desperately as these feelings flooded her once more. Nothing else existed in this moment. Nothing but this reunion.

:Draco:  
Draco stood in the doorway, watching, feeling as though he were intruding on an extremely personal and private moment. He watched the fragile witch hold her wand reverently, as if it would disappear at any moment.

Never in all the years he had known her, had he seen Granger shed a tear. She had always been a strong, formidable witch. She had always held her head high. She always had a clever comeback to his childish taunts. She had always seemed so fearless. And now here she was, clutching her wand, on her knees, falling to pieces before his very eyes. Wailing pitifully, rocking back in forth.

Not knowing what else to do, Draco pulled her door shut gently. He walked to his room slowly, feeling helpless, and wondering once more what events had broken the unbreakable Hermione Granger. 


	6. Chapter 6

Ch6

TheAwesomeOne897, thank you for understanding. And I'll share something with you. No one is a FAN of rape, at least no one in their right minds. But do you know what people ARE a fan of? Women OVERCOMING rape. And that's what this story is going to be about. That, and falling in love amidst misery.  
guest on 1/21/13, thank you. Truly. I am still shocked though. See, I've always fancied myself to be a writer someday. But i sort of thought it might be a case of me thinking I'm pretty talented and ending up discovering that I'm actually pretty atrocious. And I just can't help but be happily surprised that this ISN'T the case. Lol.  
ZordonFan, I'm speechless. Lol. That was the most thorough review I've gotten so far and it was completely spot on. Thank you for taking this journey with me. =)  
-Steph

Chapter Six

:Hermione:  
It was Sunday night. She had been in her room for a week straight. She had seen no reason, nor felt any desires to step outside.

Her room had an attached bathroom, which upon discovery, she hated instantly. Mirrors everywhere. A full wall of mirrors behind the sinks. And shower doors with mirrors on the inside. She only ever went in there in the dark. She couldn't stand to look at herself.

She also didn't need to leave for food. Mostly because she had no desire to eat. But also because the house elves had been bringing her food on a tray, left outside her door. She never touched it. She didn't want to make the poor elves do extra work on her behalf.

Hermione spent her time doing what she did best. She studied. She read. She devoured knowledge. She was working her way through all of the books that her shelves had been stocked with. Trying to find some semblance of normal.

:Draco:  
She hadn't left her room all week. Not even once. He also hadn't heard a single noise coming from her end of the hallway. She wasn't eating either. He knew because he had personally gone to the kitchens himself and prepared food for her to leave outside her door. She never touched it.

All week long, Draco had heard the whispers of his fellow classmates. Some seemed to think that Hermione had forgone her education in order to start working some incredible job. Some thought that perhaps she had transferred to Beauxbatons. Some thought maybe she was just "studying abroad". No one came close to guessing the truth. They were also wondering why Dumbledore had yet to appoint a new Head Girl. But on this issue, the student body had no theories.

A knock on the portrait hole roused Draco from his thoughts. He swung his legs off of the window seat, and stood, walking leisurely towards the door. He was in no hurry to get to whoever was on the other side. He had an inkling that he knew who it was, considering they were not just knocking at the portrait, but pounding frantically. He was in no mood to deal with such dramatics today.

Draco pulled the portrait open slowly and was not surprised to see The Stupid Twosome on the other side. They had shown up here everyday demanding answers from the Head Boy. Insisting that he must know something, and that he MUST tell them what he knew.

Rolling his eyes, Draco went for an air of boredom, inspecting the nonexistent dirt under his fingernails.

"What do the two of you want today? I've already told you idiots, I am Head Boy. I will not be ordered about by the likes of you," he said scornfully.

"Enough with the pleasantries, Malfoy," Harry spat, venom lacing his voice. "Dumbledore told us she's here. Now let us in!" he demanded, shoving past Draco rudely.

Harry and Ron both headed up the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top before heading to the only closed door on the right.

:Hermione:  
She had just drifted off for a nap, when her door was practically thrown off its hinges. Hermione was up in an instant, standing on her bed with her back against the wall and her wand pointed steadily at her door.

Harry and Ron, stood in the doorway, staring at Hermione with wide eyes. She was emaciated, her hair dirty and unbrushed. There was a wild look in her eyes that they had never seen before. Not to mention the fact that she was pointing a wand at them.

"Hermione," Harry started uncertainly, taking several steps into the room. "It's just us, Hermione."

"Yeah Hermione, remember us? Your best friends?" Ron added rudely.

Hermione glared at Ron, but her wand hand trembled before she lowered it slowly. Truth be told, she hadn't thought of Harry and Ron all week. She had been trying to wrap her head around the fact that after so many months spent being held captive, she was finally free. She had yet to come to terms with THAT, so she had not thought about the fact that very soon, she would have to face the rest of the school. Her friends. Her classmates. Her professors. The reality of what tomorrow would bring smacked her hard.

"What's happened to you, Hermione?" Harry asked softly, walking closer to the bed. "Let me, let us, help you," he whispered reaching for her hand.

Hermione saw his hurt when she flinched. She saw the confusion. She saw that Harry was scared for her. Or maybe OF her. She couldn't be sure which. When he reached for her hand a second time, slowly, timidly, she tried to let him. She really tried to be ok for Harry's sake. He had always been her rock. Comforting him, and allowing him to comfort her, had always been so natural. They were closer than most siblings. Harry was her true BEST friend. But when his hand closed gently around hers, Hermione couldn't help the irrational fear that crept along her skin. She couldn't help the strangled cry as she jerked her hand away from her most treasured friend. And this time, she broke, fleeing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her to muffle her sobs.

:Draco:  
"Well, did you get what you barged in here for?" Draco asked menacingly from the doorway. "Did you nitwit's accomplish anything?"

He had followed them up the stairs. Naturally. This was HIS dorm, after all. HE was SUPPOSED to be here. He had seen the entire interaction. He had scoffed at the Weasel's blatant stupidity and disregard for tact. He had seen Saint Potter's soft willingness to help. But mostly, Draco had seen Hermione terrified by her best friends. Apparently, The Golden Trio had crumbled.

Now Draco did not assume that Potter or Weasel had had anything to do with Hermione's strange behavior, in fact they seemed just as confused by all of it as Draco was. But he did find Hermione's reaction to the two idiots, rather surprising. He had expected the three to hug and start blubbering about their feelings, and crying at the injustice of the world. Stupid Gryffindors with their bleeding hearts routine. He did NOT expect Hermione to point her wand in their faces.

"If you two are quite finished here, I think it would be best if you left," Draco stated, pointing towards the portrait hole.

Potter caught his eye, held his gaze for several moments, before nodding in defeat and tugging the Weasel back down the stairs.

Draco was about to follow them back down when he heard several crashes, and smashing coming from the bathroom. He ran into his room, and tried to get into the bathroom. It was locked of course. Hermione was no idiot.

"Granger?" he yelled, banging on the door. "Granger, I'll break this door down if I have to."

He heard nothing from the other side. Silencing spell? Draco tried every unlocking spell he knew. He even tried blasting the door into pieces. He was starting to panic.

He took several deep breaths and then, knocking softly, he called out calmly and evenly, "Granger, if you don't unlock this door, I'll be forced to fetch the assistance of the first professor I come across."

Draco waited for several heartbeats, and then, finally, he heard the sound of the door unlocking.

He opened it slowly, so as not to frighten her. "Granger, I'm coming in now," he called out softly.

Draco opened the door fully and flipped on the lights, gaping at the scene displayed before him. The mirror wall was completely shattered, shards of broken glass covering the floor. He saw bloody footprints trailing through the glass, and followed them to the shower, which was running.

"Granger," he spoke softly, but loud enough to be heard over the water, "I'm going to open the door now, Granger," he said, gripping the handle of the shower door, and pulling it open ever so slowly.

Draco's heart literally stopped beating. Or rather, it missed several beats in a row, before starting up again quite painfully. Hermione sat in the corner of the shower, curled into herself, rocking back and forth. She was still wearing the white lounge pants and shirt from the hospital wing, which were now soaking wet and sticking to her tiny frame. The water surrounding the drain ran red with blood. Draco noticed glass on the floor of the shower, and saw that the mirrors on the inside of the doors had also been smashed.

"Granger," he started, then stopped. Unsure of what to say.

Draco dropped down to his knees in front of the small, trembling witch, without bothering to turn off the freezing water. He did not touch her. Instead he brought his face level with hers, and held his hand out in front of her.

"I know this may be hard to believe, Granger," he said softly, "but I'm not here to hurt you."

Hermione slowly gazed up into his eyes, resting those same broken, lifeless eyes on his face. She stared at him for several moments before turning her gaze to his outstretched hand.

"Please let me help you Granger," Draco whispered to her.

Hermione stared deeply into his eyes for several minutes, unmoving. Draco felt as if she were trying to read his soul. She nodded slightly, biting her lip, before timidly placing her tiny hand inside of his.

"I'm going to pick you up, and carry you into your room," Draco informed her slowly, as if speaking to a child. "I don't want you to have to walk back through that glass."

Hermione snapped fearful eyes back to his face, and tried to pull her hand back out of his.

Draco held onto her hand softly, but firmly, and looked into her eyes. "Granger, I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered sincerely. "Please believe that."

Hermione hesitated before nodding once more. Draco used her hand to pull her to her feet, wincing when he heard glass crunching under her feet. He then placed one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees, scooping her up slowly and gently, cradling her against himself. He noticed how light she was, and how sharp her bones felt, pressing into his arms and chest. He carried her through the broken glass, into her bedroom and sat her carefully on the bed.

"I need to get these wet clothes off," Draco told her through chattering teeth, "and then I'd like to heal your cuts."

Hermione nodded almost imperceptibly, and Draco dashed back through the bathroom and into his bedroom. He ripped his clothes and shoes off quickly, and yanked on a pair of fleece lounge pants and a long sleeve grey shirt. He pondered for a quick second before grabbing another pair of lounge pants and a t shirt that were both too small for him, from the back of the drawer. He waved his wand quickly at the bathroom, vanishing all of the glass before sprinting back through to Hermione's room.

She was sitting on her bed shivering violently, her teeth chattering loudly. She looked up when he entered, staring at him silently.

"I brought you dry clothes," Draco said awkwardly. "I wasn't sure where to find yours and in any case, I didn't fancy having a look through your dressers," he finished, blushing slightly. "I can help you change if you need..." noticing her frantic look he quickly backtracked, "or I could just leave for a few seconds and you just pop that door open when you're finished." And with that he hurried back to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

After what felt like several minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open and Draco poked his head around it. Hermione was sitting on her bed, still in the same white hospital clothes, with tears running down her face.

She looked up at Draco pitifully. "I need help," she said in a cracked voice that obviously hadn't been used much lately. "I, I ca-can't do it myself," she finished miserably.

Draco walked over slowly, taking the clothes from her outstretched hands. "I know this isn't what you want, Granger, but if it helps, I promise I won't look."

Hermione nodded, still crying, and turned her face away. Putting her arms straight up in the air, she allowed Draco to pull the shirt over her head. He helped her into his old shirt, without looking at her body, and then tried to figure out how to change her bottoms without her needing to stand on her bloody feet.

"Granger, just lift your bum and I'll pull the pants off," Draco said, blushing madly, and feeling extremely awkward. He could tell that this was torture for Hermione, and he felt terrible for her. But she complied, pushing up with her arms, and lifting her bum so Draco could pull the pants down and off. He worked her feet carefully into the clean pants and pulled them up after requesting that she lift her bum once more.

Hermione was visibly relieved when it was over, and Draco began inspecting her cuts. Her feet were bloody and torn and after fetching a bowl of warm water and a washcloth from the bathroom, Draco proceeded to clean the blood off and pick out the pieces of glass before using a spell to seal the wounds, and another to heal them over.

He got up to leave, but Hermione stopped him with a shaky hand on his forearm. That was when Draco saw her shredded knuckles, still dripping blood. He realized then that she had not had her wand with her in the shower. That she must have used her fists to shatter all of that glass.

"What happened to you, Granger?" Draco asked quietly, looking up into her face as he cleaned the blood and glass from her hands.

"I lost control," Hermione began, with her cracked, unused voice. "Hermione Granger, controlling, bossy, know-it-all. I needed to be in control. And then that bit me in the ass, and i was the one who was being controlled. I must have been obsessed. And I was punished for my obsession. I forced myself not to pay attention to what was happening to me. And now, it's as if I've come to my senses. Now there's blood everywhere. And it's all my fault. My insanity," she finished, tears streaming down her face.

Draco reached up, and gently ran his thumb under both of her eyes, wiping the tears away. "You're not insane, Granger. You're just... human."

Hermione let out a strangled sort of laugh, as Draco got to his feet. She climbed up into her bed and allowed Draco to pull the covers over her.

"What happens tomorrow, when people realize I'm not normal anymore?" Hermione asked quietly.

Draco stared at her open mouthed for several long moments, before he shrugged his shoulders at her. "I guess you tell them all to just 'fuck off' if they don't like it," he told her with a small smile.

He walked away as she laughed again, this one sounding more normal, less forced. Just as he was about to head back out towards the common room she stopped him with a soft, "Malfoy?"

"Granger?" he questioned, pausing at her door.

She stared at him for a long moment, frowning, before nodding and saying, "You're a different person than you used to be."

"So are you, Granger," he replied., before shutting her door with a soft click.

He leaned his back against it for a moment, thinking about everything that had just happened. Finally he pushed himself of and headed to his room deciding to just head to bed himself. 


End file.
